Maya beelines toward the kitchen, shouting, “Titi Mariana! Mami made pastelón and I got to mash the plátanos!”
Mariana beams at Maya, inhaling deeply. “Mmm, huele riquísimo!”
Maya grins, chest puffed out. “Right? I helped Mami with everything! I even got to taste the meat. But only a little bit. Mami said we had to save it for dinner.”
“She’s right,” Andres chimes in. “We’re going to be desperate for her pastelón once we get a load of Seb’s dry chicken.”
“I’ll have you know that this is going to be the world’s juiciest chicken. Right, mi tesoro?” he says, glancing over at Mariana.
“Uhhh…of course, Seba. It’ll be the best chicken ever,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm, and then shoots the rest of us a look.
Andres immediately snorts. I press my lips together tokeep from laughing, and Analyse is hiding her face behind a dishtowel.
“Wow,” Seb says, holding a hand to his heart. “The betrayal in this kitchen is unreal.”
The food’s finally ready, and we all crowd around the long table. Everyone’s loud. Talking over each other. Plates being passed in every direction.
I pile food onto my plate, trying to stop myself from devouring the entire tray of the pastelón, when Analyse spots me.
“Your favorite,” she says softly.
She settles in next to me, thigh brushing mine, her knee bumping against mine under the table. I feel every single point of contact like it’s fire. Maya’s across from us, scarfing down the food as if she hasn’t had a single meal in days.
“Slow down,” Seb says, passing her a napkin. “You’re gonna choke.”
“I’m going to have seconds,” she replies between bites. “Maybe thirds.”
Andres looks over at Analyse. “You starving our girl, or what?” he asks with a grin.
Analyse scoffs. “Yeah, right. The kid can eat. She’s got a great appetite.”
Cap chuckles from the far end of the table. “Gotta respect that she knows good food.”
Mariana raises her fork in agreement. “And an appetite that would have made my mom proud.”
Seb wraps his arms around Mariana’s shoulders, and Anna gently squeezes her hand. Mariana’s mom, Lucia, died a few months ago, and it was really hard on Mariana for a while there. It still is.
Lucia was a loss for the whole town. She was a pillar of the community. Someone who remembered birthdays, showed up with a hearty meal when you were having a bad day, and always, always,alwaysmade you feel seen and heard whenever she was near. Everyone who knew her loved her. Hell, the moment I stepped a foot into this town, she was one of the first faces I saw.
I blew into town with a heavy heart, battling demons no one here knew about, but shesawme. I packed up my life in California hoping a change of scenery would somehow make everything hurt less. I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have a place to stay. Just pain in my heart, and no idea what came next.
She took one look at me, and said, “You look like someone who could use a good meal.”
I was completely caught off guard by the moment, but somehow, I found myself following this woman to her house for a home-cooked meal. And damn…that meal was incredible. She asked me a few questions, and by the end of that meal, she’d made a few calls and lined up a place for me to stay, and handed me Seb’s number and told me I should think about joining the firehouse. Said I had the look of someone who was built for helping others. She barely knew me, and yet, she changed my life in a way that she would never understand. And now, sitting here at this table—laughing, eating, watching the family I have now—I realize how many of us she saved just by being who she was.
I’m quiet for a moment too long, caught in it—everything she gave me, everything she left behind. Then I feel her. Analyse slides her hand into mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. She leans in and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. Casual. Easy. Just a girlfriend being sweet to her boyfriend in a room full of people who already believe it.
I give her a grateful smile and squeeze her hand back.
After we’ve all eaten too much food, Cap and I clear the table while Andres and Seb argue over who’s actually washing the dishes and who’s just “supervising.”
Seb’s got a sponge on his hand but hasn’t touched a plate in five minutes, and Andres is talking so much trash I’m not sure anything’s actually clean. The girls are packing up the leftovers, leaving Cap and me to collect the used plates, empty trays, and crumpled napkins.
“A relationship looks good on you,” Cay says.
I pause, a plate in my hand.
He doesn’t look at me, just keeps moving. “You’ve always carried things quiet, but this is the first time I’ve seen you…light.”
